


Whiteout Conditions

by sanidine



Series: Prompts & Kinkmeme Fills [5]
Category: WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Consent Issues, Dirty Talk, Drug Use, Enthusiastic Consent, Hitchhiking, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Survival Sex, Light Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Poverty, Thick Seth, Unsafe Sex, truck stops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-06-08 00:28:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6831568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanidine/pseuds/sanidine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean finally caught a ride out of Greeley, Colorado after sucking dust on the eastbound ramp for almost two hours.</p><p>(Cash, grass, or ass. No one rides for free.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally for [this](https://wrestlingkink.dreamwidth.org/279.html?thread=684311#cmt684311) prompt. Not a lot of porn though, sorry anon.
> 
> edit 7/1: I found the porn! Turns out it was just hidden behind two chapters of hitchiking and truck stops. All the tags/rating have been updated to reflect this

Dean caught a ride out of Greeley, Colorado after sucking dust on the eastbound ramp for almost two hours.

The vehicle that pulled over was a black panel van, which wasn't a super reassuring, but. He was sick of the smell of cow shit in Greeley and his face had been whipped to numbness by the wind and his fingers were fucking freezing even with the gloves and Dean knew he couldn't be picky.

He jogged to where the van had stopped, holding his knit cap down over his ears so the wind wouldn't snatch it away. In the moment before the door on the side of the van rolled open he saw...something. Dean had seen plenty of shitty airbrushed van murals in his days on the road, but this was different. Iridescent black on black, some type of bird? He wouldn't have seen anything at all if the midday sun wouldn't have caught the side of the van just right, but then the door slid open and the image shattered.

It turned out that there weren't any seats in the back of the van, just an open cargo space with a few fold-able lawn chairs and a messy heap of blankets shoved back in the corner. As the vehicle got up to speed on the interstate a bunch of crap slid around in the back, empty soda cans and crumpled wrappers. The empty chair that Dean had been reaching for started to skitter away from him before he lunged forward and grabbed it.

Safety was definitely not coming first in this van. Still, it was worlds better than trying to hop a train.

The four dudes in the van seemed alright, at least at first. They were huge guys, all of them big and bearded and brawny. It turned out that the shotgun seat was one of those cool captain's chair deals that could rotate around one hundred and eighty degrees, and that was how Dean was introduced to Bray Wyatt.

Bray seemed to be in charge of talking for all four of them. He introduced Dean to Harper and Rowan, who were slouched in lawn chairs next to Dean in the back, and to Strowman, the guy behind the wheel. Strowman might have been the biggest man that Dean had ever seen - too wide for the chair and too tall to sit without having to hunch over to see out the windshield.

When Dean offered to smoke them up with the last of his weed they all hit it, except for Strowman. If Dean had thought that Bray was a chatty guy before then it was fucking peanuts in comparison to after they got stoned. Bray had a lot to say about all sorts of different stuff. Which was fine. If this guy wanted to talk, Dean could talk. Even if he couldn't quite keep the story straight - Bray and his buddies (or maybe they were his brothers) had been out in Death Valley for a bit but now they were headed home. Or maybe they were going to visit Bray’s sister? Whatever.

Dean kind of spaced out after he finally figured out that all he was expected to do was sit and listen and nod along with Harper and Rowan while Bray did his monologue thing. He started to think that maybe these guys were Scientologists, or maybe they were in one of those churches where people played with poisonous snakes to prove God loved them or whatever the fuck. Hell, except for the beard and the shitty fedora, Bray seemed a lot like a preacher. Dean had never had any use for religion, but even he was smart enough to hold his tongue and not shit talk the people who were giving him a ride.

It went on like that for hours, until the sun was setting behind them and Dean felt himself drifting off despite his best efforts to stay awake. The van didn't have a heater, but the body heat from five dudes was enough to keep it warm and toasty despite the winter winds outside. After a while Bray’s voice became this soothing hypnotic drone and Dean felt his head getting heavy and he slumped down in the chair.

He was just going to catch a few winks. Just for a couple of minutes. Dean closed his eyes, and then he was waking up.

It was pitch black outside the windows, but Dean could hardly register the darkness because he was staring into Bray’s eyes about an inch away from his own. Bray blew something in his face, some kind of powder that Dean was breathing in before his brain could signal his body to stop inhaling.

It was like sticking a fork in an electrical outlet. Dean wasn't sure what the fuck Bray had just dosed him with. It wasn't cocaine, it might have been angel dust but Dean had never tried to mess with PCP so he couldn't be sure. It just didn’t make any sense - why in the fuck would you want to dose someone with that shit in the back of a van that was going seventy five miles an hour down the interstate? It didn’t make any fucking sense.

It didn’t make any fucking sense, but what _did_ make sense was that Dean was going to make this asshole very fucking sorry he had ever decided to fuck with Dean Ambrose.

Dean sprung out of the chair just as Bray tackled him backwards, and there was one second, one flash frozen second where Dean saw the hyperdrive-looking snow flying through the headlights towards the windshield and Braun’s creepy little pig eyes watching him gleefully from the rear-view mirror. Then the full force of Bray’s shoulder tackle caught him and slammed him backwards onto the floor of the van. All the air knocked out of him and his head cracked back against the exposed metal floor. Fuck.

Time got slimy for a minute, and when Dean caught it again things weren’t looking so good. Maybe he had overestimated his ability to take on three huge guys at the same time while fucked up on who only knew what drug.

Harper had his arms pinned above his head, Rowan had his feet, and Bray was looming over him with one knee pressing down on Dean’s chest. Bray leaned down so that he was right up in Dean’s face. Dean could feel Bray’s breath, his beard on Dean’s cheek, and Dean started to breathe very fast. Every touch felt like burning and his mind was racing at a thousand miles an hour and he went completely limp, putting maybe another inch of space between his face and Bray’s.

Bray grinned down at him, moved even further towards Dean so the gap between them closed. For one fucked up moment he thought that Bray might try to kiss him, but Bray just started to whisper in his ear.

“Don't be afraid, now. There's no need for fear on the road to her glorious -”

That was when Dean headbutted Bray right in the face.

Bray yelled out, stumbled off of him, and Dean twisted with all his strength to free himself from the other two. Dean saw Rowan try to grab him again so he pistoned his legs out to catch the ginger in the chest, kicking him into the back of the driver's seat. Harper had started punching Dean just as Braun let out a grunt and the van swerved violently, throwing them all into a pile of tumbling bodies that fatally collapsed two of the lawn chairs.

Braun slammed on the brakes, too hard, and the vehicle started to slide. Dean had been trying to struggle to his feet but instead he ended up tripping over a leg and falling face first into someone’s fist.

Black ice, Dean thought. Frictionless. Spinning and spinning and spinning. Then the van skidded to a stop.

Everything was still and silent. Dean thought that he had been knocked out until he heard someone else groan - then Dean sat up fast, fighting to extract himself from the tangle of limbs. Braun was turned most of the way around in the driver's seat, glaring at Dean with murder in his eyes. The other guys in the back of the van were starting to get their wits about them, but it was the sound of Braun unbuckling his seatbelt that really got Dean moving.

His heart was beating jackrabbit fast as he wrenched the sliding door on the side of the van open, and then he was stumbling out onto the side of the freeway in the blowing snow. Dean stumbled at first, shaky with fear, but then he got his feet steady underneath hinself and he ran like hell. He didn't have time to worry about leaving tracks as he crashed across the road ditch and stumbled behind a fallen log in a stand of pine trees far to the side of the interstate.

A semi truck blasted the horn as it drove by the stopped van, and Dean could see that all four of the men had gotten out of the vehicle. They were all standing out in the snow, rubbing their various injuries and looking around trying to see where Dean had gone. All except for Bray.

Bray was standing stock still and staring straight at where Dean was hiding. Dean held his breath until the other man slowly shook his head, yelled something that Dean couldn't hear and herded everyone back into the van. Then they drove off, leaving Dean stranded by the side of the road in a blizzard. Which wasn't the best situation he had ever found himself in, but it was still worlds better than being trapped in that van with those fucking psychopaths.

After that, there was nothing left for Dean to do but walk.

Dean kept to the far side of the ditch, close to the trees. It was harder going over the uneven terrain, but Dean didn't want to risk getting hit by a car or picked up by the cops. He had no idea which state that he was in, but Dean wasn’t willing to bet that he didn’t have any warrants out. Not to mention the fact that Dean was still feeling a frantic and jittery from whatever drug Bray had blown in his face.

It was a little bit like drifting out away from his body, but simultaneously he was somehow hyperfocused on every flake of snow that blew into his face. Not a good trip at all. Zero out of five stars, would not recommend.

His leather jacket did a good job cutting the wind, and even though Dean had lost his hat and gloves in the fight at least two of his jackets had hoods he could flip up to help keep his head warm. Thank Christ he had gotten out of there before they tried to take is clothes off or whatever the fuck it was they had planned to do to him. His hands felt heavy in his pockets, swollen with cold blood, and he had to stop and shadow box with a low hanging tree branch for a couple of minutes until his fingers stopped throbbing and he could get feeling back in the fingers. Then all he had to do was keep walking until...Dean wasn't sure about that part yet.

All he had to do was keep walking. But he found himself forgetting even that, forgetting his purpose and staring out at the thick falling snow in the darkness until he shook himself back to the present. Keep walking. Keep moving. After a while Dean figured out that singing helped him stay focused, and he ended up belting out ‘Simple Man’ and ‘Thunderstruck’ and ‘Come Sail Away’ at the top of his lungs, knowing that no one was around to hear him.

Then, like a shimmering mirage in the desert, there was a huge sign rising out of the shoulder of the road. The headlights of a passing car illuminated the bright blue metal, gone in a flash but it was more than enough to put the joy back in Dean’s heart.

REST AREA IN ½ MILE

The first thing Dean did when he got there was to barricade himself in the single handicap bathroom, the one that had a lock on the door and it's own toilet and sink. Then he stripped down to his boxers. It was going to take forever to dry all his stuff off with only the little electric hand dryer on the wall, but Dean had nothing but time.

His trusty leather jacket was fine after he wiped it off with a handful of paper towels and even though his undershirt was damp with sweat, the hoodie and the fuzzy jacket he'd picked up from the Salvation Army in Denver were pretty much dry. Unfortunately, his jeans and thermals were soaked through with melted snow from the knees down, and his boots and socks were equally wet.

Dean peeled the clinging fabric off of his feet, laughing a little bit at how his skin had gone pale and fishy. The veins were bright blue highways under his skin and he poked at one of them, tongue stuck between his teeth, imagining that he could feel the rush of blood beneath the skin under his fingertip, coursing through his body like a roaring river.

He wasn’t even in too bad of shape, considering. There was a swollen goose egg on the back of Dean’s head where it had connected with the floor of the van and one of his eyes was going purple, tender and puffy, but he wasn’t bleeding anywhere. He hummed to himself a little as he pulled his clothes back on and found a dollar in change in one of his pockets. Here he was, in this nice warm rest stop, out of the wind and the snow, and all he had to do was catch a ride. Now he even had enough money for a candy bar from the vending machine. That was right - everything was turning up Dean.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was bored for hours and hours. No vehicle so much as cruised through the parking lot, and he could only watch the snow for so long before it started to put him on edge. He had read every pamphlet in the display, and Dean knew he was going stir crazy when he started to think that the Antique Thresher Festival and Farm Equipment Demonstration sounded like a fun thing to visit.

Too bad it wasn't until August. 

Dean had been quite literally twiddling his thumbs when he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Dean turned to look out the window and sat that a  highway patrol car had pulled into the parking lot of the rest area.  _ Fuck fuck fuck _ . To say that Dean didn't do well with cops would have been putting it mildly. He knew that he wasn’t currently doing any illegal shit, but even just being the one weird guy hanging out at a rest area at two in the morning in the middle of a blizzard looking like he did was more than enough enough to raise a few questions.

As soon as his brain had processed the presence of the cruiser, Dean ducked into the men's bathroom and locked himself in the stall. The handicapped bathroom would have been better for going undetected, but then Dean would have had no way to judge when the cop had come and gone.  He was, if he said so himself, a bit of an expert at the fine art of hiding in bathrooms.

Dean sat in the stall and watched through the crack in the door as the cop came in and took a piss, washed his hands and left. Then Dean waited for what felt like forever, passing the time in his head as well as he could until it was finally too much to take. 

The cop was standing right there. Of course. 

Dean did a quick assessment - young guy, stupid haircut, and the velcro name badge on his chest said ‘SWAGGER’, which. Really? Ridiculous name aside, Dean didn't want to take his chances with this guy. Swagger didn't look too bright but he was a burly fucker and also, yeah, a fucking cop with a taser on his belt. Lucky for Dean he didn't spare more than a glance up from where his attention was being absorbed by something on his phone.

Dean did his best to not look shady as fuck as he strolled over to the vending machine and pretended to have a real hard time choosing between candy bars while his mind raced over his options. 

The parking lot had been empty except for the cop when Dean had ducked into the bathroom, but now there was a single eighteen wheeler out there as well, idling in the snow. Dean could either stand around and pray that Swagger got bored and left, take his chances in the blizzard, or try to go with the trucker. None of the options had a very good chance of ending well for Dean, it was just a matter of choosing the lesser of three evils and, fuck, in the reflection of the vending machine glass he could see that the cop was staring at him now.

“Ith everything alright thir?” 

Dean almost busted out laughing at the ‘ith’, and by the time the ‘thir’ came lisping out of the cop’s mouth Dean knew for a fact that he was going to get himself sent to jail. At least it would be warm.

But before Dean could answer and seal his fate, the door to the handicapped bathroom swung open. 

The guy who came out was damp around the edges from the snow and he had a serious looking knee brace on his right leg and god damn he was pretty hot for a trucker. Pretty hot for a normal person too, actually. The guy was maybe a couple years younger than Dean, but it was hard to tell with the few days worth of beard. He was about Dean’s size too, except he was super fucking  _ thick _ , and not even in the gone to seed, road fat kind of way that Dean was used to seeing on truckers.

It took Dean less than a second to decide on his plan. If he had to fuck this guy for a ride it wouldn't be a hardship, guaranteed to be better than freezing to death or getting arrested. As long as he wasn't some kind of psycho fuck. Oh well, too late, Dean had already made up his mind.

“Hey Jeff, did you want the Milky Way or the Snickers?” 

The guy sort of looked back and forth between Dean and the cop, confused. Dean tried to keep his face as unsuspicious as possible, but when the trucker met his eyes Dean put all his power into giving the dude a look that would somehow persuade him to  _ be cool. _

“What?”

The cop had gone back to texting, but Dean knew better than to count chickens. He was praying to god that this trucker would not only play along, but also be willing to give Dean a ride. Long fucking odds, but lady luck hadn’t let him down yet tonight.

“You told me to get you a snack but I didn't know which you’d want.” Dean said, voice casual even though he knew his eyes must have been crazy and desperate.

“Oh, uh. Snickers is good.”

“Also I need a dollar.”

The trucker gave him a withering look but Dean just shrugged, waited for the guy to dig out his battered wallet. Once they were back out in the snow the guy stuffed the candy bar into his pocket, and started walking out towards the eighteen wheeler. Dean kept pace beside him, easy enough since the guy had a limp to match his leg brace. 

It didn't take long for the trucker to look over and ask “What the fuck was that about?”

“Can I get a ride?”

That seemed to bring the trucker up short.

“You stranded?” He asked, and Dean didn't think he was imagining the way the other man’s gaze caught on Dean’s bruised face. 

“Yeah.” Dean wasn't above being pitied if it got him a ride, he just hoped that this trucker wasn't the type to see marks and want to add more of his own.

“Where you going?” 

“Where are  _ you _ going?” Dean shot back, going for coy (a look that didn’t really work on Dean). When the guy didn't reply, Dean shrugged and kept his shoulders up around his ears to protect his neck from the blowing snowflakes. “I just need to get to the next truck stop, okay? Anywhere I can hitch a new ride from. Please, man, I'm fuckin’ desperate here.”

“Alright, come on.”

Dean had to do his best not to whoop and jump in the air as he trudged after the young trucker, but he couldn’t keep the joy from his voice as he said “I knew it. I knew I could count on my best friend Jeff!”

“You know that's not my name, right? You know you just made that shit up.” It was a little hard to hear him over the wind, but Dean thought the guy sounded amused instead of annoyed. 

They were at the truck, then, and Dean hustled around to the passenger side to climb up and in. It was a slick looking black and grey Peterbilt, and the inside of the cab was honestly a lot nicer than the flop house hotels Dean was used to staying in. The swanky air suspension bucket seat bounced as Dean settled into it and buckled up, trying to get a look back at the sleeper part of the cab. There was a curtain pulled across so Dean couldn't see much back there besides the corner of a neatly made bed. Oh well, he figured he'd be getting a pretty good look at  _ that _ later.

“So what  _ is _ your name then?” Dean asked ask the trucker as he got situated behind the wheel.

“Seth.”

“Well I was close at least.”

“How is that close?” Seth darted a glance at him, eyebrows furrowed as he flipped a couple switches on the dash the panel.

“Seth, Jeff, they're basically the same thing.”

“What? They have, like, one letter in common.”

Dean just shrugged. “Close enough. Jeff is closer to Seth than it is to Dean.”

“Christ, who the hell is Dean?”

“I am.” Dean grinned as he flipped down his hood. “Nice to meetcha.”

Once they hit the road conversation dwindled to nothing almost immediately. Road conditions were pretty terrible with the snowstorm and Seth had to focus all his attention on driving. At least there weren't many other vehicles out on the road to worry about.

The cab of the truck was lit up by the instrument panel and the dimmed screen of the computer system, throwing weird blue shadows all over everything. The radio was playing some type of rock, so quiet that it could barely be heard over the squeaking windshield wipers. Dean did his best not to fidget - he wasn't usually so careful about not making a nuisance of himself, but considering the situation he thought he should stay on his best behavior.

After about twenty miles of white knuckle driving they came to an exit. On a clear night Dean would have been able to see the illuminated Flying J sign from miles away, but as it was he didn't notice anything until Seth muttered “Thank fuck” and hit his turn signal for the exit ramp. He jerked the wheel a little rough and for one heart pounding moment Dean thought they were going to fishtail but Seth got it evened out again without breaking a sweat.

Seth called his dispatcher while he was fueling up to tell them that he'd stopped inclement weather. Dean wouldn't have thought it possible but the storm seemed to be getting even worse, almost whiteout by the time Seth found a spot to park in the long line of idling trucks.

Seth leaned back in his seat and put his hands over his eyes, taking some deep breaths and letting the tensed muscles in his shoulders start to unwind. Dean unclipped his seatbelt and shifted to face the driver's side. No use in delaying the inevitable.

“So what’ll it be?”

“Huh?”

“You know. Cash, grass, or ass, nobody rides for free. And I don't got any of the first two. So...” Dean waggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

Seth sort of chuckled, seeming amused by the offer. Which was not the reaction that Dean had been hoping for. He felt even worse when Seth said

“Don't worry about it.” 

“Alright, man. Thanks for the ride then.” Dean tried to grin and play it off even though Seth still wasn't looking at him as Dean flipped his hoods back up and reached down for the door handle. 

The staff at the Flying J might let him hang around inside for an half an hour, maybe more if the manager was in a good mood. But he didn't have money to buy anything and he looked like a bum because, well. He was a bum. Dean knew he couldn't just stand out in the snow all night, but the prospect of going from cab to cab out here trying to find someone who would let him wait out the storm... long fingers of dread were alreadt creeping up his spine.

He found the handle and cracked the door, letting a cold gust of wind into the warm interior of the cab. But before Dean could hop out Seth was sitting up.

“Where’re you going?”

“Um. Gonna try and catch another ride?”

“Dude, no. No one's driving in this. My dispatch told me that the roads are bad all the way ‘til the state line.”

Dean shrugged “I'll find someone. Don't wanna put you out more than I already have.”

“Seriously, it's not a problem. Just crash with me. I've got an extra blanket and the passenger seat is pretty comfy.” Seth scratched at his ear, looking away out the windshield. For a guy who held literally all of the cards in this situation he sure seemed hesitant about it, like he was worried that Dean would turn him down. “If you don't mind going south when the storm breaks I can drop you off in a hub somewhere warmer.”

No way Dean was going to refuse that offer. There would be a catch sooner or later, he knew. There always was. But he was willing to take his chances.

They trudged across the parking lot together to the truck stop, the snow already a couple inches deep where it hadn't been flattened down by tires. Even with all the running engines the world seemed real quiet, all the sounds absorbed and muffled by the snow except for the howling wind.

Seth shook the white powder off his shoulders once they were in the building, under the bright lights and the tinny classic rock on the sound system. “Meet you back at the truck?”

“Sure.”

“Wait, here.” Seth dug around in the pockets of his jacket and handed Dean a ten dollar bill and the free shower coupon that had printed on the bottom of his gas receipt.

Dean took the items, looked at them dumbly for a few seconds before he raised his eyes to Seth who shifted awkwardly.

“I, um. Assumed you didn't have anything.”

“Yeah, I'm broke as a joke. I can't just keep taking your stuff though.” Dean wasn't above taking people's handouts when he knew what would be expected of him in return. But the blank question mark space of what Seth would expect from his had Dean on edge.

Seth was looking more uncomfortable by the second. “Don't worry about it, you gotta eat something. And the shower ticket was free. Just thought you might want to get clean while you had the chance.”

Dean bit back on his automatic response which was to say that he did not, in fact, have to eat something. He’d used his last dollar on a candy bar at the rest stop, he would be good for at least a day or two if he couldn't scrounge anything up. 

“You saying I stink?” Dean asked instead, grinning.

Seth looked relieved by the humor, relaxing a bit. “Got it in one.”

“Fair enough.” Dean shoved the pieces of paper into his pockets. “Meet you back out there.”

Dean may not have graduated high school, but being poor as fuck had made him real good at doing off the cuff cost/benefit assessments for immediate survival. He ended up buying a couple cheap burritos that he devoured immediately after he had paid for them. Then, while he was waiting for a shower to open, Dean used to rest of the money to buy a pack of M&M’s and a little toothbrush. Then he turned on the charm and got the cashier to switch out all of his loose, leftover change for a couple quarters that went into the condom vending machine in the men's bathroom.

Dean grimaced when he looked at it - cherry flavored. Gross. But it would be better than nothing if Dean could get the guy to wear it.

  
Seth had brushed off Dean’s earlier offer, but that had been before he'd given Dean ten dollars and a warm place to spend the night. Dean wasn’t fooled. He could also guess that Seth had some not altogether charitable reasons for giving Dean the shower ticket. But Dean was surprised as he realized that it was more than okay with him. Even when he thought hard about it, Dean couldn't really remember the last time that he'd actually  _ wanted _ to trade favors with a guy that picked him up.


	3. Chapter 3

The frigid wind nipped at Dean’s damp hair as he hustled back across the lot to Seth's truck. Dean was reminded how much he hated being in flyover country, where there was nothing but fields for miles, nothing to slow down the wind.

Seth had the heat blasting pretty good along with some heavy metal music that he flipped off, looking chagrined as Dean climbed into the cab.

“Sorry.”

“Man, it's fine. Your house your rules.” Dean replied, feeling his mouth go wet when he looked at Seth.

Dean was wearing every piece of clothing that he owned, too hot now in the warmth of the truck, but Seth had changed into a pair of athletic shorts and a faded band t-shirt that was clearly well loved. Seth must have had the clothes for years, definitely since before he got big. His thighs filled out the shorts and the thin material of the shirt was tight across Seth's broad chest and shoulders, the sleeves stretched out around his meaty arms. _Fuck_ yes.

“I don’t think I can sleep yet.” Seth said, startling Dean out of his thoughts.

“Huh?

“I'm still pretty keyed up from driving in all that shit.” Seth clarified.

Dean could so clearly hear the next words that he knew would be coming out of Seth's mouth - ‘ _so why don't you help me relax a little bi_ t’ - that he almost missed it when all Seth did was ask

“So where are you from?”

It seemed like Seth's idea of relaxing was just to bullshit for a while and watch the snow settle around them. Dean kept it brief when talking about how he'd grown up in Ohio, managed to flip the conversation fairly easy to get Seth talking about himself. Seth was from Iowa and he had only been driving solo for about six months. Dean learned that he worked for a company out of Florida and he didn't have a wife or kids, but he still missed having a dog and his family back home.

“Gets lonely?” Dean asked, leading.

“Yeah.” Seth said as he yawned, scrubbing one of his wide hands across his face.

Another perfect opportunity, Dean thought, for Seth to make a move on him. But Seth just kept chatting on, either refusing or not even seeing the bait, and Dean had to wonder what the fuck was happening. Even when Seth turned in for the night, he just lowered the heat and handed Dean a blanket, apologizing in advance that the seat didn't recline that much. Dean was so dumbstruck that he couldn’t even think of any smart remark to try and make one last pass at the guy.

It didn’t take long for Seth's breathing to even out, the restless sounds of a body getting comfortable fading down into the slight twitches of sleep. Dean, on the other hand, wasn't even close to passing out. He had draped the blanket over himself, sure, but now he was stuck tapping his fingers on his leg underneath the fabric, restless and confused.

He could tell that Seth was interested. Dean had been around long enough that he could tell when a guy wanted to fuck, even if he couldn't exactly explain how he knew.

Something in the way Seth had looked at him when he thought Dean wasn't paying attention. The way that Seth had smiled or laughed or tilted his head. It didn’t matter, Dean just knew. But Seth hadn’t tried to do anything about it even though Dean had pretty much been flashing a giant neon sign above his head that said ‘I Put Out’.

The glowing clock on the dash ticked off one hour, then two. Dean watched at the blizzard continued to howl outside, more trucks trickling into the lot as their drivers got fed up with the weather. Seth snuffed a little bit in his sleep but didn't snore, thank god. Not that Dean wanted him to sleep at all, which, fine. Time and boredom had made it clear to Dean that if he wanted to get laid tonight he was going to have to take matters into his own hands.

Seth didn't stir when Dean stripped off his upper layers until he was down to just his tank top, toed off his boots and crept back into the sleeper part of the cab.

The sheets had been kicked down around Seth's calves, and he was laying in his back with his mouth hanging open. Dean noticed that he didn't sleep in the brace, saw the pale lines of surgical scars on Seth's knee. But that wasn't nearly as interesting as where Seth's shirt had rucked up to expose a strip of stomach. Dean had been half hard for what felt like hours, but he went to full mast as soon as he saw the trail of hair leading down from Seth's belly button and disappearing into the waist of his shorts.

“Hey.” Dean kept his voice soft as he sat down on the mattress, reached out, put his hand on one of Seth's thick shoulders to jostle him a little bit. “Hey, Seth.”

Seth was slow to wake up as he rubbed at his eyes, yawning. Dean never knew which guys were going to come awake confused, startled and swinging, but Seth didn’t seem to have that problem.

“Dean?” Seth blinked slowly as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. “What time is it? ‘S something wrong?”

“I'm cold.”

“You can turn up the heat blower if you want. Or I got another blanket here somewhere…” Seth trailed off as he noticed that Dean was sitting on the bed with him, barefoot, touching Seth's shoulder. Dean grinned at him then, and even someone as oblivious as Seth had been couldn't ignore all of those implications at once.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Dean smirked “So do you wanna -”

It turned out that what Seth really wanted to do more than anything else was blow Dean, which was a surprising turn of events in the best possible way. Seth got Dean to scoot so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed with his feet on the floor.

“What about your knee?” Dean asked, blurting it out as Seth folded down to kneel between Dean’s spread thighs. It was oddly considerate for Dean, but being as he was about to get his dick sucked he was in a pretty accomodating mood.

Seth shook his head, his voice hoarse as he muttered “It'll be fine, don't worry about it. Let me just-”

Well, he was the expert on his own joints.  Dean wasn't gonna to argue with him about it. Especially when Seth pressed his mouth to the bulge in Dean’s pants, mouthing at the line of his hard cock through the denim. Dean stroked his hand through Seth's hair, curving his fingers around the sweet curve of his skull to move Seth back so that Dean could take his dick out and they could both get what they wanted. Seth let out a string of needy little whimpers that had Dean twitching and swearing under his breath, hurrying to get his zipper down.

“Fuck.” Dean felt like all the air was punched out of him when Seth bent back forward to take Dean into his mouth, hot and slick and perfect. Looked like he'd be saving that condom for later. “Fuck, your mouth is so good.”

Dean shucked off his tank top and threw it somewhere, leaned back on one hand while he kept the other on Seth's head, steady, grounding. Seth sucked him slow, taking his time about it like he wanted to make it last and not just get it over with. He looked so fucking good down there with wide curve of his shoulders hunched over to fit between Dean’s splayed legs, and Dean couldn't stop watching the way Seth's muscles tensed and flexed under the thin fabric as his head bobbed in Dean’s lap.

Seth hummed around Dean’s cock as he sucked, hot little vibrations that went straight to Dean's head and made him swear under his breath. When he could see straight again Dean noticed that Seth was squeezing himself over the fabric of his shorts, hips flexing minutely as he humped against his own hand. Seth ran his tongue along the heavy vein on the underside of Dean’s cock, and Dean watched as Seth's shoulders trembled faintly when he snuck his hand into his shorts to touch himself for real.

Without really thinking about it, Dean hooked his foot under Seth's wrist. Seth pulled his hand out of his shorts him a flash, gripped the top of his wide thigh with white knuckled fingers as he pulled off of Dean’s cock with a wet pop.

“Sorry, fuck. I -” Seth hid his face against Dean’s knee. “I'm sorry. I won't do it again.”

Dean had blown any number of men who wanted to pretend that he was someone else or, at the very least, didn't want any reminders that it was a dude sucking their dick. So he understood Seth's reaction, even though he didn't know what he had done to give Seth the impression that Dean was that type of guy. Seth had seemed like a pretty confident dude before, so all his sudden hesitancy when it came to sex was surprising to Dean. He wondered in a vague kind of way who had fucked this kid up but Dean wasn’t about to dwell on it - he was just going to have to be careful and play extra nice.

“You wanna touch yourself?”

“Not if. I won't if you don't want me to. Fuck, please don't be mad.”

“Nah, I want you to. I just wanna watch you do it.” Dean said, but instead of getting on with it Seth just sort of rubbed his hands down his thighs as if his palms were sweaty. As if he was nervous.

“What are you shy for, huh?” Dean stroked his thumb over the curl of Seth's ear, soothing. “You've had my dick in your mouth but now you don't want to get yours out. You embarrassed or something?”

Even in the low light Dean could see the blush creeping up from under the tight collar of Seth's sleep shirt, the way the back of his neck went pink at Dean’s words. Dean tucked his fingers under Seth's chin to tilt his head back so that Dean could see his face, run two fingers across those plush lips.

“C’mon, pretty. Promise I won't laugh. Even if it’s real small.” Dean grinned as he said it, meant to lighten the mood and get the show back on the road.

He hadn’t been expecting the way that Seth cut his eyes down and away from Dean, shivered a little bit under Dean’s gaze. Huh. Seth bit his lip as he raised up on his knees, hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his athletic shorts to pull them down over the sweet swell of his ass.

Dean had been morbidly curious, given Seth's hesitance and obvious embarrassment, to see if the guy had, like, a micro-penis or a weird deformity or something. Instead, Seth's dick looked perfectly normal. Fully hard it was well on the smaller side of average, sure, but nothing weird to be ashamed of.

Dean didn't give a fuck, but he figured that maybe Seth was just sort of self conscious about his dick looking even smaller compared to how thick the rest of him was, his meaty thighs and the solid, generous mass of his upper body. Or maybe, given the way that Seth squirmed as Dean stared at him, the small drop of precome that Dean could see beading up on the swollen tip of his cock… maybe the self-consciousness of the whole thing was something that Seth was shy about being into.

A gust of wind buffeted the cab, strong enough to make it rock a little big and break the awkward silence. Seth's head whipped around, startled, but Dean just laughed and nudged his cold toes against Seth’s side.

“What're you gonna do, glare at the blizzard ‘til it goes away? I got a better way for you to pass the time. C’mere.”

Seth pressed an apologetic kiss to the curve of Dean’s hip before he licked the tip of Dean’s cock, just tasting at it for a few seconds before he started sucking again. One of Seth's hands was wrapped around the base, jerking what he couldn't fit in his mouth in time with the bobbing of his head, but Dean noticed that Seth had started to touch himself again with the hand that wasn't busy. Fuck, that was a pretty picture. Seth's mouth was great, but watching the short tense motions of Seth's shoulders as he tugged at himself, the fact that he was getting off just to sucking Dean’s dick… That was really doing it for him.

Seth moaned as Dean nudged at the back of his throat, and Dean swore under his breath,carded his fingers into Seth's loose bun to keep his head still while Dean rolled his hips in helpless little circles.

“Fuck baby, you feel so good.” Dean panted, his mind and his mouth getting away from him as he got closer to the edge. “I wanna sit you on my lap, pretty boy. Bet you'd be so fuckin’ sweet for me wouldn't you? Play with you for hours, just feel you up until you're begging for me to get you wet and fuck -”

Seth pulled back all of a sudden and Dean was worried that he'd gone too far with the dirty talk until he saw the way that Seth was shaking all over, shooting off into his hand as he whimpered Dean’s name. Fuck, that was it. Dean’s hand wrapped around where Seth was still holding the base of his dick, moving both of their hands in rough, quick strokes as he got right up to and tipped over the edge.

It took a while for Dean to catch his breath while Seth hunted up some tissues and wiped their hands off. He stood up to find his shirt, and was a little surprised when Seth nudged his elbow against Dean’s side and asked

“You wanna stay back here?”

Dean didn't know why he laughed. Probably the sheer ridiculousness of the idea that he was going to be able to move far enough to get back in the bucket seat up front after Seth had sucked his brains out through his dick. But Seth took it wrong, face flushing as his head ducked.

“Nevermind, I didn't. You don't owe me anyth-”

Dean cut Seth off by hooking his fingers over the elastic waistband of his shorts, pulling him forward as Dean plopped back onto the bed. It was a little small, but they could make it work.

“C’mon, I didn't mean it like that. You're not getting rid of me that easy.”

Seth smiled, quick and almost hidden before he griped at Dean to at least take his jeans off. Once they had gotten settled Seth asked

“Did you mean it?”

“What, about not getting rid of me easy? I'll go whenever you get sick of me. Don't worry about it.”

Seth shook his head. Dean didn't see it so much as he felt the jerky movement where Seth had his forehead pressed up against Dean’s shoulder.

“No, not that. What you said about. Putting me on your lap, and.” It sounded like there should have been more to that sentence, but the cut off didn't really surprise Dean given how embarassed Seth had sounded about it.

  
“Storm’s supposed to last for a while, isn't it?” Dean grinned, all sharp teeth in the dim darkness, and he felt Seth shiver against him.

**Author's Note:**

> As always I write and edit everything on my phone, so please let me know if I've made any particularly terrible mistakes. Kudos and comments are loved!
> 
> [tumblr ](http://www.bingitoff.Tumblr.com)


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